A Pocket Full Of Bullets
by Just Dessy
Summary: A fable gun that could end it all, how did Harry always get himself into these things? Slash/crossover
1. Chapter 1

**A POCKET FULL OF BULLETS**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**WITH A POCKET FULL OF BULLETS**

**PART ONE**

_Vive ut Vivas~ Live So You May Live_

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><p>Tarnished silver reflected a rainbow on the countertop as Harry eyed the bullet.<p>

'_We have not lost this artifact, but it's return is of great importance. When it's found you are to immediately return to us fore if you hold onto it not only will your life be void but the world…'_

The bullets reflection on the countertop winked innocently at the sunlight and he sighed gently. How was he to find this bullets 'master' and get it safely back to Gringotts? Wasn't he suppose to be finding the Horcrux's so Voldemort could finally be dealt with? For not the first time in his short existence Harry wondered how his life got so fucked up.

'_Oh yeah it happened right around when Hagrid told me; you're a wizard Harry.' _he thought sarcastically.

He really wished Hermione was here right now because if that witch didn't know what to do then nothing could be done. Okay, perhaps, he was exaggerating the truth but eight times out of ten if Hermione couldn't find something out there was no way anyone else knew. Then he remembered that for one thing he wasn't suppose to be outside of Private Drive nor was he suppose to be within the wizarding world. Anyone else would have called him a fool but when one is summoned from Gringotts there's no way around not coming, literally.

Narrowing his eyes on the bullet he thought about what he knew. He knew it was pure silver, made around the 1830's for a non-magical human to help protect the muggles and had been lost soon after it's creation. No matter how the goblins tried to deny it Harry knew they lost the creation to muggle hunters.

Ever wondered who caught the bad guys once the Aurors and Unspeakables couldn't? Well this is where the Hunters stepped in, a special breed of muggle that hunted the paranormal to keep the line between earth and what they thought to be heaven and hell safe. Usually this meant killing whatever they came across but if unspeakable couldn't round up the target it was most likely the individual in question had already succumbed to an intense level of insanity. On occasion there were a number of rouge vampire and werewolves that feasted upon the muggles and if they were stupid enough to let a muggle hunter find them then they were better off dead.

"Anything for you hun? Boss won't let you sit here if you don't order," A woman with a yellow mile high bee hive, smacking on pink bubble gum and blowing bubbles said. She tilted her head back in the direction of a stern looking woman who had one eye on taking orders and the other on them.

"Er…whatever the special is, I'll take that an a red fizzy." Harry said.

"Alright," she blew and popped a bubble, "a chicken fried steak and taters on brown gravy with a…hey kid what's a fizzy?"

Harry blinked, oh yeah he was in America now. "I meant a soda,"

"Oh a red dope, okay that'll be 5.97, want a side order of veggies or something?" she asked, smacking her gum.

"Umm, sure, yeah anything will do."

"Alright spinach!" she cheered as she turned to walk off.

Harry blinked once before he was calling her back. "Wait a minute, a red dope an spinach…can I just get some peas?"

The waitress laughed before yelling out, "One mooing chicken in the mud, green pee and one red dope!" Turning back to him she smirked and said, "Well yeah, a red dope like in coke a cola! I call coke dope so whenever you want one I can yell it," It seemed to make perfect sense to the woman and Harry just smiled at her in a awkward manner before passing the bills on the counter to pay.

The red dope was good and food was even better. Stomach full an warm Harry leaned back in his booth as he once again locked eyes on the bullet. _What secretes do you hide?_

Harry sighed, he knew he couldn't sit here all day just starring at this bullet. For one thing the diner manager was looking at him funny again and for another he was in a new city an needed a place to crash for the night.

He also needed to do some research and find out about these suppose hunters. The goblins told him that they had lost contact with the group around the late 1920's, right around when the depression was just starting in the states. The goblins neglected to tell him if there were any European hunters, all they seemed worried about was the states since this was the last known place of the Colt.

The gun had a name and it was very simple to remember; Colt.

Thirteen bullets had been crafted in spell induced goblin silver and just a touch of fey wing dust in the bullets so they would be 'everlasting'. Harry held tightly to one of them, lucky number seven. Seven seemed to be a huge factor in his life thus far. He couldn't help but think about the prophecy, the number of horcruxes Voldemort made and his supposed final seventh year at school; which more than likely he would not attend.

Slipping the bullet back into his jean pocket he called out, "Hey lady know a spot where I can get some shut eye?" before the door chime went off and caught his attention.

Sam fucking hated Missouri. Okay, perhaps he didn't say or think _'fucking'_ but he was damn near close to it. It wasn't so much the people, the landscape… hell not even being cooped up in the car the whole time was the worst part of Missouri. The worst part of this place was the memories the state brought back.

He was seven and Dean was almost eleven. Their father had brought them out for a '_camping'_ trip with their uncle Bobby. To make a long story really short; their father was insane and werewolves really did die by silver.

"Yo Sammy, you need to snap out of it. We almost to Witchy Momma house and she's bust a cap in my ass if you're acting all fucking depressed an shit," Dean said then added, "Like a girl,"

"Fuck you," Sam swore an pouted, although if asked he would passionately deny such a fact.

"Ooh, ouch! Someone must be cranky?" Dean cooed.

Sometimes he really just wanted to smack the shit out of his brother.

"Dean," Sam warned, grinding his teeth ever so loudly to hear.

"Alright, alright you princess just; when we get there don't mope around. I don't feel like getting my ass kicked."

Sam didn't say anything but he didn't need to because they both knew as soon as he walked through those doors to Witchy Momma's he'd have a mega watt smile on his face. Witchy Momma sat right outside of Missouri on the Kentucky state side, but the city of Benton still claimed half the restaurant as part of their township.

It was a simple apple pie, mom and pop shop kind of diner you expected to find out in the middle of bum fucked Egypt. The lady manager who owned the joint was known as Witchy since her mother practiced voodoo an it just sorta stuck to her and the joint was called Momma's and Pappa's. Best damn pies north of the Mississippi and the best chicken fried steak a god could even ask for.

Dean sometimes wondered if Cas ever cook in heaven, then sometimes Dean wondered why in the hell Cas would even need to eat! All things aside the brothers dubbed the place Witchy Momma's and always made it a point to head out east while in Missouri so they could stop by.

But the best thing about Witchy's was the pool table.

"Dean, you are not gonna hustle some poor farmer you hear me?" Sam finally said.

"Yeah, yeah sure," he replied as he turned up his music; Blue Oyster Cult's Take Me Away.

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><p><strong>END 1: TBC<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**WITH A POCKET FULL OF BULLETS**

**PART TWO**

_Auribus Tenere Lupum ~ I hold the wolf by the ears. {I'm in a dangerous situation an cannot let go.}_

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.

SEE PROFILE FOR NOTE.

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><p>The diner was suddenly full with many teenagers or what Harry thought to be teen but something didn't feel quite right with that lot. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't hear when the beehive waitress called out to him, but he did feel when her fake acrylic nails dug into his cheek.<p>

"Oh…oh, oh what the bleeding hell lady!" he nearly shouted.

"Sorry hun, but you weren't listening an I thought you really needed a place to crash for the night. I'm guessing cheap right? There's a joint a few miles down the highway called 'Ed's Sleep Easy Inn' some cheap wannabe 20's styled joint, but its cheap an the night clerk don't ask too many questions," Beehive told him.

The comment was open ended but Harry knew what she meant. He thanked her an quickly walked out the door, but not before drawing the attention of the group of teens. Each one looked at him and it sent a chill down in spine and into his heart. He made dust fly as he ran for nearly half the way to the motel. If anyone back home had of seen him running away from a bunch of teens all because of a look he was sure to get lots of negative press.

'_Perhaps they'll understand that I'm a boy and not some super human weapon.' _He sighed, if only.

Soon enough the motel came into site, broken sign an all. It was…quaint. The motel was surrounded by a short brick fence that was missing a few pieces and the building itself was two-story and painted a dull dingy orange color. The red roaster sign out in front flickered on and off; sleeping roaster to refreshed eager roaster. Harry snorted and kicked a rock with his too scruffy shoes.

An hour later Harry had a room on the second level and learned there was a town two miles out further that held a super Wal-Mart. Harry wasn't sure what a Wal-Mart was but from what the clerk said it had any and everything he would need since she noticed he was traveling kind of light. Harry had flushed; he was traveling extra light if truth were told. All he carried on him were the clothes on his back, his information, some muggle credit cards provided from Gringotts and the bullet.

It was one of his smartest and dumbest moves yet, he was hoping on the Order thinking that he was kidnapped by death eaters and would focus their attention on fighting more of Voldemort's forces than wasting their efforts on him. All the while, he still felt half way guilty for his deception and two stones away from not giving a flying fuck. His thoughts as of late were really scaring him; one moment he wanted to fight for the wizarding world and in the next all he wanted was to be left alone.

Damn the workings of a teenage mind!

The trip to the Wal-Mart was uneventful if including the shock of the sheer size of the store. It was behemoth in size and Harry couldn't possibly imagine why all of these things were needed here at once, but he wasn't going to question the muggles about such trivial things. In the end his purchases made a small dent in his own personal savings; earnings from the twins joke shop, but was well worth the cost.

He was most proud of the shiny new black and silver mountain bike he was currently riding, along with the industrial camping backpack strapped on his back. A few enlarging charms and couple of choice words later and he was on his way- well almost, anyway.

You see Harry didn't quite know how to ride a bike. He seen his cousin attempt to ride a bike with training wheels one Christmas many years ago, but the fat lard wouldn't even peddle to make the bike move instead he relied on his mum to push him since his father was too 'proud' to move from his spot. So when he finally was out the store and had managed to get his things packed into the bag he had the chore of tackling the riding of the bike.

He was sure to have given whoever was watching the tapes a good laugh, but he finally managed to learn how to keep the bike up right and going an when/how hard to brake.

Stopping at a place called Taco Bell for some supper; which was entirely too greasy, he was onward to his destined sleeping place for the night before heading out to New Mexico. There was a retired gunsmith who made it no secret he was an ex hunter that Harry had to speak to, if only for the whole story behind the Colt. It would be more information than he had now.

It was fucking three in the morning when Harry was woken up by shouts and screams. At first his foggy mind thought it was the people next door and he banged on the wall as hard as he could and proceeded to flop back down on the bed and put a pillow over his head. However, when the screams didn't stop he woke up enough to realize it wasn't sex that was going on and from the pitch, most likely not next door either. Scrambling out of bed he threw on his jeans, stuck his feet in some sneakers and pulled his wand from under the pillow. Stumbling outside trying to get his damn jeans fasten and one hand with his wand up he came to a dead halt at the scene before him.

On the balcony stood one of the teen from the diner; eyes black and mouth hanging by the gristle of her jaw. She was coming at him and he could only gape at her in shock for a moment…just a moment.

"Holy Merlin's shite! _**Reducto**_!" Harry shouted eyes wide.

The red jet of magic hit the girls left shoulder, sending it flying over the balcony into the dirt parking lot. She hissed and screamed bloody murder until a dark mist escaped her mouth and she fell lifeless to the ground. The mist hovered in her place for a moment as if considering Harry before it dispersed into nothingness.

Adrenaline still pumping through his veins he took a step forward and then another before he stood above the girl. Her eyes were chocolate brown now. He took another step over her and that's when he saw the door hanging off the hinges to the room two doors up from his. Casting a silent _**lumos **_he could only take in the sight for seconds before he was throwing himself over the balcony puking up greasy taco meat and what ever else he had eaten that day.

It was also in that moment that he heard a voice yell.

"Freeze! Hands where I can see 'em. Fuck Daniels this is sick! Sir you're gonna have to come with me."

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><p><strong>END2:TBC<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**A POCKET FULL OF BULLETS**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**PART THREE**

_CAVE~ BEWARE!_

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.

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><p>For all the years that Ash had been a go between for hunters, having gone on a few hunts himself, he could honestly say he had never met a person quite like Harry before. The boy was still a little green around the gills, quite like his eyes, but he was harden too. If Ash could pick a person that was similar to the kid he'd say Sam because they shared the same hunted, driven look in their eyes.<p>

'_Brothers of another torture,' _Ash thought, chuckling. He was really good at making funnies.

Said teen was being held in a cell across the hall from him and all he knew about him was why he was here. Ash would have said that was some awful luck but the two second hesitation in his speech made Ash think that perhaps there was more to this pot of coffee than beans. As he waited in his cell he tried to think of a way out. If he could only get over to that radio in the office or perhaps the phone he could either get a hold of Sam or Dean on the CB or on their cell phone. Ash had heard that they were heading this way and by habit he knew they headed to this podoc little town for the diner so he left Jo at the Road House in search of the brothers. He had some info for them about the Colt that would not please either one. Then he had to go and get in the middle of some freak spirit processing teens and one just happen to explode in front of him.

Yeah, karma was a bitch.

The police were there within seconds and he had been in cell 5 for the past two days. So now there was him and this boy across the hall with similar circumstances to one fucked up situation.

Ash sighed, yep this had Dean and Sam chaos written all over it and the only way out was to wait for the brothers. They'd be here soon; no way they were going to pass up a hunt like this.

"So Sam wanna explain what the hell that was all about?" Dean asked.

"Not talking about this now Dean," Sam sighed.

Everything had been normal or as normal as it got with them at the Diner. Dean was making some poor farmer even poorer, Sam was on his second plate of chicken fried steak and steam veggies and Witchy herself was bustling around the diner like there was no tomorrow when it happened. The hairs on Sam's neck stood to attention and he turned to look out the window at a group of yellow eyed teens all grinning crookedly at him.

He yowled like a pole cat and that set off a chain reaction. Dean hit the pool ball too hard an sent it flying at one of the farmers head. Said farmer got hit square in the jaw and stumbled about hitting a waitress who was carrying a full tray of steaming hot food. The food landed on the customers and they yowled, cursed and broke the tables trying to get up. By the time Dean reached Sam to get the hell out of there before anyone got their wits the teens were gone and Sam was wide eyed and stuttering.

Witchy had been beyond seething in anger.

So on they drove down towards the borders. They would hit Nashville before sunrise at the rate Dean was going. Nearly sleep, lulled by the dark star less sky, Sam jumped when their CB picked up some heavy static before a familiar voice began to yell.

"Get back, get back. Kid what the fuck is…" The rest was a jumble of screams and pained moans.

The Brother Winchesters looked at each other, shocked, before they both yelled; "Ash!" and the classic was turned at a break neck speed doing a half doughnut heading back towards witchy and where ever the hell that was being transmitted from.

"Sam you need to," Dean started, but was cutoff as Sam made a grunting _shut up _gesture as he booted up his laptop.

For nearly ten seconds there was silence inside the car, besides Sams frantic typing, when they heard the one thing that any seasoned Hunter feared.

Police sirens.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck me!" Dean muttered, hand gripping the wheel tightly.

"Dean pull over," Sam said, typing coming to a stop.

"What? This aint no time to get all moral on me Sammy."

"No…look I know where Ash is, it's the jail in town an if these cops are out they don't know what happened at the station." Sam reasoned.

Dean gave him a sideways glance, "An if it's the yellow eyes fucking with us?"

"There's one way to know."

**TBC**


End file.
